Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Denmark and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Country Joe & The Fish to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bootsy Collins,
Quando Quango,
The Fugs,
Brick,
Soul Sonic Force,
Minnie Riperton,
The Doors,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gabor Szabo,
Clear Light,
Mantronix,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Massinfluence,
MC5,
Crime,
Arab on Radar,
Cheater Slicks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Intrusion,
Can,
Crash Course in Science,
Minutemen,
Glenn Branca,
The Moody Blues,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Cure,
the Normal,
The Birthday Party,
Barbara Tucker,
Angry Samoans,
Zapp,
ABBA,
The Remains,
Nick Fraelich,
L. Decosne,
The Happenings,
The Fire Engines,
Graham Central Station,
Desert Stars,
Y Pants,
the Swans,
Kurtis Blow,
Basic Channel,
Gastr Del Sol,
John Lydon,
Con Funk Shun,
Robert Wyatt,
Saccharine Trust,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Walker Brothers,
X-102,
Buzzcocks,
Ossler,
Ohio Players,
David Axelrod,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
One Last Wish,
Barclay James Harvest,
David McCallum,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.